


A Hero's Promise

by aphytick



Category: Motorcity
Genre: M/M, also heavily implied blowjobs, little bit of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphytick/pseuds/aphytick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red's got a score to settle. Written around the time Vendetta aired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hero's Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, as soon as Vendetta aired I got myself a favourite Motorcity character.  
> Man, I hope he shows up a lot more in the rest of this season, even if we never find out his deal.  
> Anyway, wow, characterization really sucks here doesn't it, Red's going on like a teen drama queen.

Red’s fist clenched and unclenched at his side, his frame taunt as he leant against his car. Taking off his helmet, he leant in the window checking the time on the dash. Chilton should be here soon; should’ve been here five minutes ago, by Red’s count.

  
 _“You know where”,_ was all he wrote, spray painting large, angry letters on the hood of Mike’s precious car, underlined with that symbol. The insignia that’s plagued him for one whole year, back since he had a home and a name, when he had a life and a future. Before _Mike Chilton_ ruined everything. Red saw him there that day, saw him bark orders and flash his shiny new pin at the men under him. Sure, he sang pretty, said he had a change of heart and tried to stop things, but that wouldn’t bring back homes and families. He hated him, and that hatred drove him to improve himself physically at the sacrifice of improving himself mentally. His suit was rusted and bent, it’s shoddy state a call back to the wreck that was left in the wake of Mike Chilton.

Swearing, Red continued to seethe until the low snarling of Mike’s car rose over the clanks and clangs of downtown Motorcity. He pulled up and got out, expression easy as he said “car trouble”. Red ground his teeth and stayed where he was.  
  
“Look, buddy, I don’t know why you’re doing this.”  
  
“I am _not your buddy._ ”  
  
Mike had the audacity to look hurt, flinching back a slight bit before sighing.  
  
“Okay, if you want it like that. But you’ve still got this all mixed up. Your fight should be with Kane, not me and my team! If anything, you should be on our side.”  
  
“I couldn’t care less about your stupid team, Chilton, or about Kane. This is personal.”  
  
“You’re _making_ it personal.”  
  
“You destroyed my life!” Red snapped, shoving himself off the hood of his car as he advanced on Mike with raised fists. “You took everything from me, and you’re too much of a coward to take the blame!”  
  
“Whoa there, buddy.”  Mike adopted a more defensive position, arms raised and palms outwards. “You have to listen to my side.”  
  
“I am not your buddy!” Red screeched, throwing himself at the other boy. He landed a punch at his side before Mike gripped his shoulder roughly to hold him off. Red hissed before sweeping Mike’s legs from under him and shoved him hard, standing on his chest as he went down. He knelt down, causing Mike to groan, and moved as close as he dared.  
  
“I’ll take _everything_ from you.” Red susurrated, his eyes boring in to Mike’s. But Mike wasn’t looking at his eyes. No, no, Mike was staring at his fucking _lips_. Red spat and threw himself off of Mike.  
  
“You’re sick, Chilton!”

  
Mike began what would be another bullshit speech no doubt, dripping with morals and team pride, but Red wasn’t fit to hear it. He drove his fist which was still covered with his armour hard in to the right of Mike’s jaw, repeating the motion on the left when he failed to draw blood. To his credit, Mike took the first two swings without a word, but then he’d had enough. He pushed at Red’s shoulders giving him precious few seconds to clamber up and gain some equal ground.

  
“You think this is going to help?” Mike gingerly touched his own jaw and rubbed a finger along his lower lip, searching for wounds. “You can hit me as much as you want, but I can’t change what Kane did.”  
  
“What Kane did? What _you_ did. I was there! I saw you give the word, only changing your mind when it suited you.”  
  
“The point is that I changed my mind!”  
  
“You couldn’t have been so blind all that time, Chilton. You had to have known what shit Kane was trying to pull. It’s funny how you only had a change of heart when it was already too late, funny how you tried to make yourself out a hero. What a change from being a lapdog.” Red laughed bitterly, stepping towards Mike and gesturing the landscape around him, before pointing sharply in the other’s direction. “Well look at you now. Hero of Motorcity, with his band of merry men. What’s it all for, huh? You think you can save this scrapheap? Think you can clean up the mess you dropped us all in a year ago? You’re a fucking fool, Mike Chilton!”

He lunged at him then, a mess of blurring limbs and rusted armour. Mike sidestepped him easily, a kick only managing to graze his shin. With a grunt of exasperation, he grabbed the shoulders of Red’s armour and shoved him forcibly against Red’s car.

“You’re not even listening! I didn’t know what Kane’s intentions were that day. I didn’t know him then! I thought I did, but I didn’t realise how twisted he was. I _tried_ to stop that project, and if you were there you should know that.”  
  
Mike’s eyebrows knit together, and bile rose in Red’s throat as he recognised an expression of pity. One of Mike’s arms dropped to his side uselessly  
.  
“You’re right. I am trying to fix my mess. Every day, me and the Burners fight against Kane so he can’t hurt anyone else. I’m _not_ the hero here, all of Motorcity is!”  
  
Red spat. “You expect me to buy that all for one bullshit?”  
  
Mike chuckled, the sound a shock. “No, but it’d sure be nice if you’d stop popping out at the worst times. I've got a job to do.”

  
Red didn’t know how it came to this, how Mike’s mouth was on his without warning, uncharacteristically hard and bruising. The only thing he knew was this wasn’t how today was supposed to play out. This was wrong, wrong, _wrong,_ but he couldn’t stop it. Mike’s left hand lifted to cup Red’s cheek while his right felt around for the door handle of Red’s car. A few seconds passed before the door was popped ajar and Mike pulled away from Red to pull it open.

He ducked under the headliner and whistled appreciatively. “Sure is nice to see this thing when it’s not being used to drive me off the road. Permanently.”  
  
This was _wrong._ Why was he cracking jokes? Anger swelled in Red’s chest and seeped through every vein and artery, feeling tight and thick and entirely scorching. He opened his mouth to snap at Mike, something along the lines of “take your hands off my fucking car before I take them off for you. _Permanently”_ but before he could utter a single word he was being shoved rather unceremoniously in to the spacious front seat. The side of his head cracked against the steering wheel, and a rushed “oh, sorry buddy” dangled above him.

_This was WRONG.  
  
_ Mike crushed his lips against Red’s again, but Red didn’t, wouldn’t,  _couldn’t_ move causing the other to pull back.

“Jeez, I got carried away didn’t I. Is this okay, buddy?”  
  
The anger in Red’s chest crackled and seemed to spurt from every pore, and he bit out the words “I. am not. your fucking. BUDDY.” before yanking Mike’s face to his own.  
  
The clash of personalities fizzled in the air; where Mike was gentle, Red bit at him and fought off affection. When Mike hissed soft words near Red’s ear, Red pushed his face away and threw a callous insult at him. Mike was enjoying this for reasons neither of them knew, and sought to draw it out in an attempt to clear the dank air of the past year between the two of them, but Red was full of disgust and wanted nothing more than for this to be over. He swallowed thickly around Mike, hands and mouth harsh and teeth a plenty and worked on himself in an effort to move things along. Mike stroked his hair, fingers tangling slightly in a vermillion mass but Red’s hand closed tightly around his wrist before twisting sharply. He lifted his head a fraction.  
  
“Don’t fucking touch me.”  
  
This was wrong enough as it is.

  
After that, Mike kept his hands to himself, choosing to splay them out on the worn seats. He thought for a second about how many other people like him had been in there, but the thought was short lived as his body seized and his breath caught, his unclipped nails digging in to the leather.  
  
Red turned his head to the side, the taste in his mouth bitter and his throat as dry as sand. He couldn’t live this down, wouldn’t be able to forget it when he was supposed to be hating Mike Chilton. Fuck, he still hated him but now he hated him the wrong way and hated himself even more. He felt fingers nudge his chin, his cheek being pulled away from the cool leather as Mike soothed “hey, hey, look at me.”

  
Red scowled, slapping his hand away and shoving Mike to the side. He pulled his trousers up, cursing as he awkwardly stumbled out of the car. “This”, he spat “means nothing, changes _nothing_.”  Once he was decent, Red spun on his heel to face Mike, who still hadn’t moved. “Get the fuck out of my car.”  
  
“We need to talk about this. Not just this, either, but everything.”  
  
“Get the _fuck out of my car_.” Red repeated, voice gravelly. “We’re done here.”  
  
Mike pulled his own jeans up, pausing a second to grab his jacket before scooting out of the car door. “No we’re not, and you know it. Look, that,” he gestured vaguely behind him “that was a stress reliever, right?” _Wrong._ “Now maybe you can listen to what I have to say. Before you do something you’ll regret.”  
  
Red damn near screeched as he drove his elbow fiercely in to Mike’s nose.  
  
“I’m fucking sick of listening to what you have to say Chilton! You’re so self-righteous and think you can win everyone over by playing the nice guy card. I’m no moron like the rest of this junkyard.” He shoved Mike out of the way and climbed in to the driver’s seat. “Make no mistake, Chilton. I’ll do whatever I have to. I’ll _destroy_ you. Then we’ll see who’s the God damned hero.”

  
He slammed the door shut, almost taking Mike’s fingers in the process before starting the car and getting out of there as fast as he could. Mike look puzzle for a second, before he sighed heavily, bringing his hand to his nose which was almost assuredly broken. This was going to be a fun one to explain to the Burners when he got back.  
“I guess we will, Red.”


End file.
